The Road to Mera Peak - Equilibrium bringing mind and body together for best performance.
By Prof Nigel Camilleri
“Without dreams our journeys in life would never begin , and it’s our journeys which take us closer to our dreams”
A few years ago, I had the opportunity to trek to Everest Base Camp with a few of my friends. The mountains called once again, beckoning me to return to the grandeur of the Himalayas. It seems a weakness common to many of us – once a challenge is conquered, the human spirit craves another, even greater one.
This time, the goal was to trek to the highest trekkable mountain in the world, Mera Peak, standing at 6,475 meters above sea level. Until this point in my life, I felt I was ‘unbreakable'. Such
challenges encourage sincere introspection, a deep connection with the self – mind, body, and spirit. Success on the trek depends heavily on the mountain's conditions and the weather, both largely uncontrollable. We must retain the humility to accept that if nature is not welcoming, we must humbly turn back. In
November 2022, I returned once again to Kathmandu, Nepal, with three other friends. The timing felt particularly right. Perhaps selfishly, I needed this trip after a draining year at work, followed by a recent cycling accident where a car hit me, leaving me injured. This journey offered a chance to cleanse myself from the stress of daily life.
Message to my family – 13.11.22
"Hey, guess you're in bed by now. This may be a long 3 weeks away from home, but I'll write to you in this chat. This trip was not about performance; climbing a mountain is different. It's about meaning. It's about connecting body, mind, earth, and spiritually. Unlike a performance where one needs to try their best, trekking a mountain is about listening well; it's about humility. Humility means listening to whether the mountain grants us the right of passage or not, and accepting if it does not. Love you”.
This ain’t Disneyland this is the real thing
The flight from Kathmandu to Lukla is breathtaking. The passengers are blessed to receive a free aerial view of the Himalayas as they stand graciously and peacefully tall above and around us. I believe the mountains have a lot to teach us; they have stood patiently there for millions of years. I feel they give perspective to our lives compared with the great scheme of the history of the world. They help us realise how small and finite our lives are and, in truth, how disposable we all are.
The night before catching our flight to the Tenzing-Hillary, Lukla airport, deemed to be the most dangerous airstrip in the world, my stitches were removed from around my eyes and face, from the accident.
It's 6:42 am, and we're up in the air, I'm not sure what was causing the most palpitations – the double espresso or the plane. We were about 20 people squashed into a plane, which reminded me of a can of tuna, but instead, it's a flying machine. The one air hostess crouches over to give us the pre-flight instructions; she is very proud of her job. The plane is so small that she cannot stand up in the plane. I wonder whether she is aware of the calculated risks she is taking with her life. My mind was pensive but I also felt numb. I struggled to understand how I felt, whether it was the sudden pulling of the plug on life or whether it was the effect of the multiple falls, or the trepidation of the trek ahead. Usually, I would have an unbreakable attitude, but with my half-broken body, I felt that that saying was very wrong.
The closer we got to the mountains, the more their grandeur was overpowering, and it felt as though it was wrapping us up in the warm arms of Mother Nature—Everest – Sagarmatha in Nepalese – mother, Chomolungma – goddess mother of the world.
Aim for the highest cloud so that if you miss you’ll hit a lofty mountain
After a hearty breakfast in Lukla village, we started our trek, following the steps of many giants who had come before us. Within a short while, we were all lost in the beauty and meditation of the trek. The mantra created by the repetition of one's footsteps and breathing, coupled with the sound of the waterfalls and the bells of the yaks in the distance—to me, this is the definition of peace.
We made it up to Chutanga at 3500m; it was a good 700m elevation trek. Quite a jump into the deep end! The trek was challenging but not over the top, considering we didn't sleep last night. We reached the village, which was very small and rural, by 12:30 pm, so we'd all kept a good pace. But the mist was catching up, and when we got there, it was pretty cold. We had no electricity, WiFi, or warm water – a quick jump into the wild side indeed! I stood alone by the stove to warm my body up. There wasn't much else to do, so I waited for the time to feel it was OK to have a sip of whisky and play some music.
Your life changes when you go out of your comfort zone
Temperatures were way below zero; this was already challenging for us. Today, the sun was out, and that's a game-changer. Spirits were higher, and the views were to die for. We got over Zwitra Pass at 4600m, which meant that in two days, we had gained 3000m elevation from Kathmandu. One of the group started suffering from altitude sickness, but we worked together as a team.
The lodges were cold and much more basic than the ones on the more touristy Everest Base Camp route. They offered little shelter from the elements, so if it was minus 20 degrees outside, it was the same temperature inside. It was beautiful to wake up in a lodge with icicles on the ceiling and the grass. The little children would come to play with us as we packed our rucksacks. There was simplicity in the way they lived life, which was clearly very different from our speed.
We kept ourselves hydrated and as warm as possible. We focused on the importance of understanding and maintaining our own personal equilibrium. Once again that morning, the visibility reminded me of the "Lord of the Rings" films. The roads this time were more rugged than those on the Everest Base Camp trek, making it a more challenging route. All this was pushing us out of our comfort zones, but so far, we felt mentally strong.
There were nowhere to go but everywhere …. Kerouac
We made it into the humble national park of the Mera Peak region and, after a bouldering session, reached the village of Kothe where 'less is more'.’’’
The following day, we traversed further into this valley. As we wandered languidly into the heart of the Himalayas, the sun came out to greet us. We played music along the way, laughed, and danced as we walked – the atmosphere was light.
It got me reflecting on my childhood. When we were children, we believed that everything was magical and possible. But at what point in our lives do we stop believing this? And when we lose our dreams, are we losing a part of what is truly us?
“Yesterday is gone, tomorrow has not come, we have today, let us begin ”
Letter to my family
Today is the fifth day of our trek, and it has only been one week since we left Malta, but I miss you all a lot.
I'm writing from a tea house, which is about 4800m above sea level. The views are spectacular; there are mountains all around us. It's been very cold so far, and I miss the luxuries of home, but we're learning to get by with less. So far, it's been physically challenging but manageable.
I was thinking along the way, 'Your time is now! Make the most of every day, because this time will not come again.'
I can notice that I'm less fit than I was in 2019 when I trekked to Everest Base Camp. With age, we all lose fitness. When I was Kate's age, I used to jump high enough to touch the basketball net—there's no way I can do that today!
So Kate, when you dance ballet, you're dancing for yourself and yourself only, not for anyone’s approval. Make every step and pose count—hold your hands up as though you can hold the whole world in the palms of your hands. There's no time to be sloppy or feel like not dancing.
Neena, when you do drama, be like the mountain. You're acting not just for today but for your acting to be remembered. So, like the mountain, your acting will be timeless.
When you swim, there's no time for sloppy strokes. Swim as though your life depended on it. It's all about how badly you want it. If there's one good thing about Julian, he doesn't falter. He doesn't have sloppy days; he's consistent.
Sophie, when you jump in gymnastics, remember, 'That's your gift.' Use it, give it your best jump, because that bounce won't last forever. When you jump over your obstacles, use that bounce – you have more energy at your age than your coach. Have no fear of not getting up and failing. Don't let wobbly legs get to you, and if you do fail to jump an obstacle, try it again until you've tried it so many times that you can jump them in your sleep.
Charlie, your wobbly legs are getting stronger. Aim to kick that ball into the net so determinedly and hard that you punch a hole in the net, and the ball goes right through.
Lastly, have no fear and follow your dreams. Your time is now!
Love, Daddy, from on the road.
High Camp at 5,800m
To be honest, this is a walk into the unknown. The winds had picked up, and I was struggling with feeling cold for so many days. We all knew that the next 24 hours were going to be challenging. Sherpa Lakpa was keen to make the top. He's not concerned with gale-force winds; he was very matter-of-fact, and we felt we could depend on him. He had summited Everest 7 times, 4 times without oxygen, and was also a guide on the 1996 IMAX Everest movie. He was very confident and gave us 3 chocolates each to eat along the way. However, food supplies were running thin. The food was very basic, mostly Dhal Bhat (rice and vegetables) with little oil, lard, or salt in our diet.
High camp is an eerie place that one sees in regular documentaries on mountains. It was a bunch of tents hidden for shelter behind a big rock on the edge of a cliff, with snow all around. There were small yellow, high-mountain tech tents and a larger, old army tent, which would be the kitchen tent. The kitchen tent was usually the most welcoming and warmest, but this time the smell of kerosene coming out of the old motorbike engine (used to warm up the overused kettles) probably caused more hypoxia than maybe one needed when oxygen levels were low.
That night, zips of the tents were torn, so the tents never really warmed up. But in the sleeping bag, we found solace. The howling wind was terrific; there were times when the gusts of wind would bend and bob the tents so much that they would wake us up. We would wait to see if the tents moved, but they must have been dug well into the ground with stones. By 2:30 am, we had had our breakfast of unpackaged noodles, put on our crampons, and were ready to head for the summit.
Summit day - “it ain’t about how hard you punch but about how many times you can get knocked down and keep moving forward, that’s how winning in life is done”.
We were about to follow in the steps of many others before us. We are just ordinary people testing the limits of our realities. I'm not a keen believer in the word 'unbreakable'. I believe that, in truth, every person can be physically or mentally broken. It can happen so suddenly – strong winds preventing us from summiting, getting very cold and ending up with a chest infection, or eating something that messes with our stomachs. There are also events and traumas in life that reshape the wiring of our brains – but I won't go there.
Even so, I believe that humans are very resilient. This can be seen in those living in Himalayan villages in such harsh weather conditions with little amenities. It can be seen in the people carrying up heavy loads to bring food supplies to the mountains.
So what happened to Thul Dai - big brother? (Nickname given to me by Nepali guides on the way up)
Until this point, the focus of the journey was on maintaining equilibrium between nature and myself. I was enjoying the hedonistic experience of all the sensory input provided by the Himalayas. From this point forward, the equilibrium was no longer maintained, and I shifted from enjoyment to the more basic need of survival.
Until we got to the peak, the Sherpa/guide would let me wander up ahead and treat me as one of them. I would wait to meet them at the tea house or lodge and would help others with their things. But the day of the summit was long. We left high camp at 3 am, which may have been a late start due to the winds picking up. They divided us into two groups: Julia and Sergio with Sherpa Lakpa, and me with Dewan and Leon. They asked me to carry my own bag to relieve them of some of the weight, saying that way, we would get to the summit together. In total, we had a 13-hour round trip.
We had porridge for breakfast (which was nice) in the kerosene-fueled kitchen at high camp. Then they gave me black tea (which tasted so much of kerosene) in a plastic 1L bottle. Every time I drank it, my stomach wretched. They also gave me another liter of hot water in a thermos. The winds were howling, and the weather information center reported that at high camp, there were snow blizzard winds of 95km/hr. This meant that at the summit, the winds were stronger.
Both guides were steadfast in reaching their goal. Devan set off in front, Leon in the middle, and me behind him. We harnessed up, all held together by ropes. We had our crampons and pickaxes. After about a 5-minute walk, Leon needed to stop for the toilet. We had a little break, but that morning something was up as he would stop every few steps. It was getting to the point where he would lean back on Devan's rope, and Devan would pull him up. I would nudge him to start up again as the stops were getting longer. Then he started falling to his knees and then sideways. He was taking dexamethasone along the way, which seemed to perk him up a bit.
We got to below the ridge of the peak at around 8 am. Sherpa Lakpa, always in good spirits, was happy to see us. Sergio and Julia were freezing but holding on. He pointed to the 20-meter ice wall climb and told us we were going to head to the top. Personally, I would have taken a picture from where we were an hour ago and turned back home. I was beyond my limit and kept the 40% rule in mind. My mind is only telling me to turn back because it is wired to keep me within my comfort zone.
For the ice wall, Dewan asked me to stay in front and pull Leon up, while he would hold and push him. The ice wall was narrow, and had we fallen towards either side, it would have been pretty dangerous. We got to the top, and everyone was exhausted but happy. Even then, I was still not uncomfortable.
We got off the ice wall, and I suddenly started feeling cold. I told Dewan I was going to head down alone, as they were used to me walking alone. He let me go. In truth, he should have come down with me and left Leon with Sergio and Julia at a similar pace.
The snow blizzard was strong, and so was the amount of fresh snow on the ground. The path was narrow and limited. At some point, I seemed to lose my path. I could see the rock which gave shelter to high camp (to my left), but I was going down to my right. I thought I'd walk across and meet up with the path on the other end. Suddenly, I noticed the ice was not taking my crampons; they were breaking through. My pickaxe was putting a hole through the ice – there was no bottom! I noticed I was surrounded by crevasses. Panic set in, and I spread my body weight out as much as possible before deciding what to do. I was moving around but in no meaningful direction, and no ice seemed safe enough. After a few minutes (or what seemed like it), I saw Dewan. I called out to him, and he started shouting at me. Then he noticed that I was in danger and came down. He told me off, saying this was extremely dangerous. We had to walk up to get Leon again. By this time, I was getting cold.
We then got up and started walking down to the next village. I noticed I was only breathing from the tops of my lungs and that I was hearing crackles in my chest—the sound of fizzing Coca-Cola, which isn't as much fun in real life.
I was walking very slowly. By the time we reached the tea house, I was just ahead of Julia. I felt weak and asked her for dexamethasone, but it was all gone. I kept positive, as it was all downhill from here. That day, we were going to descend from 5000m to 3300m altitude. We walked slowly to lunch at 4300m, and my lungs were already clearing up. I was hoping to reach the porters, remembering I was carrying Leon's dexa in my bag during the ascent. Unfortunately, I was so weak that I arrived over an hour late for lunch, and the porters had already set off. I asked the guides to call, but there was no reception in the area. I was confident I'd be okay since I had no other symptoms – no headache, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, or fever. My appetite was still good; I just lacked that 'get up and go.'
Anyway, we got on with what seemed like the longest 15km walk down to Khote in my life. It was the only time we got to our destination after dark. My heart rate had been around 130 all day (my jogging pace), meaning I'd spent a day in the 'jog effort' zone. My body was shattered, and day after day, my energy levels weren't recovering.
Naturally, coming down the mountains, one assumes the gradient is all downhill. But today, we had to climb from 3300m to 4300m to reach Chutunga, the coldest and most unappealing lodge of the trip. It was literally built with no regard for which side of the valley gets sun – a lodge perpetually in shade and humidity. It's also constructed from thin plywood, with single-pane glass windows.
This long climb was already daunting, and negative thoughts filled my head. I walked with Sergio, who was alternating between feeling okay and struggling, and Julia, who was generally tired. Leon, walking ahead with Dewan, seemed sprightly as ever. We turned on my speaker and played some upbeat music to help us get through this 7-hour climb. The path, created by nature to offer the least resistance, was relentlessly uphill with many uneven rocks, making it quite uncomfortable. Once again, by the time we reached the bouldering section (the last hour), I noticed my lungs acting up and heard those same bubbling sounds.
Adding to the discomfort, the mountain cold had given us all a cough with phlegm, and the lack of oxygen made breathing difficult. Most of the way, I focused on trying not to cough because it meant bending over in agony, feeling like I was about to expel my lungs with my ribs screaming in pain.
Anyway, as we walked towards the lodge, I noticed my energy waning, and breathing wasn't getting any better. Julia mentioned she had IV dexamethasone, but I wasn't keen. I thought I'd wait it out. That evening, I again couldn't sleep. The thin plywood walls meant every conversation, snore, or bodily function was audible. This, combined with my lungs bubbling, the vigorous coughing, and needing the toilet every 30 minutes, made it impossible. Negative thoughts swirled – what if I was so much worse by morning that I couldn't move? We still had a 300m climb to the ridge at 4600m before heading down to Lukla.
At 1:30 am, I knocked on Julia's door and asked her to give me the IV dexa. She inserted the IV, and I started feeling better – perhaps mentally, too, relieved I'd done something to stop the deterioration. My trips to the toilet continued, and I had several near-misses. By breakfast, I'd passed diarrhea four times. I couldn't have this on the trek, so I took two Imodiums. Julia topped up the dexa, and I began walking briskly. Once down over the ridge, I even managed a little run with Dewan and the porters, feeling much better but exhausted. Every time I stopped, all I could think of was sleep. We had another 7-hour trek that day.
We stopped for lunch in yet another humble lodge, built on the wrong side of the sun and colder inside than out (we'd slept in one like this in Chutanga on the first night). I tried to eat as much as I could since most of the food was basic – dhal bhat, egg curry (lentils, rice, egg, water) with not a drop of oil, butter, or lard. I believe this stemmed from my body not getting adequate calories for such a trek. At some point, the equilibrium was lost. These lodges aren't like the warm, refreshing ones in Europe - we were getting little restorative sleep, and my body battery remained low.
Leon and I reached Lukla around 5 p.m. with the porters. They helped us find a pharmacy, as the irritant bronchitis was most annoying by then. All the pharmacies were closed except one. The hospital pharmacy offered to open for me but with a $100 out-of-hours fee. We declined.
We arrived at the promised hotel of comfort, warm showers, etc. First things first... my room's shower had no hot water. "No problem," they said, "we'll let you use the guest shower for free." Meanwhile, they couldn't find the key. I waited in the cold hallway with open windows for over 20 minutes – after all, it was only 2 degrees outside!
At least that night, we had a good farewell dinner of chicken sizzler, complete with a celebratory cake. This was the first night I truly slept well, with fewer toilet breaks and coughing spells.
Lessons learned: Balance, accepting our human fragility, and understanding the value of balance between our internal and external senses on all levels.
Kathmandu - chasing my breath
Getting to Kathmandu was welcome, but it didn’t come without its difficulties.
I had developed a chest infection and lost a ot of weight, I remained pretty unwell for the 10 days in Kathmandu. My breathing still remained weak and I needed to sleep with two pillows to breath well. I would also wake up at night in night sweats and also wonder confused around the room. I was walking around like an 80yr old and always looking for the sun as my thermostat seemed to have gone or a place to sit down, since I was chasing my breath. Landing in Kathmandu did not come with an automatic reset and new healthy body but I seemed to have suffered a chest infection post pulmonary oedema, and so was out of breath most of the time.
But the work was about to begin. We offered to Volunteer at Shanti Bavan, the house for the learning disabled and homesless run by the Missionaries of Charity, in Kathmandu. The day after we arrived in Kathmandu, we went to introduce ourselves to the MC Sisters.
Julia and I carried out about 25 reviews on every person who was on psychiatric medications. We did a lot of reducing as most residents were on 3 types of anti-psychotics. The residents had traumatic stories and came from far and wide. One would have thought that since they had an LD there wasn’t much to their background. But most of the women were found in the mountains most who whom couldn’t look after themselves or psychotic.
One woman’s story was that she suffered post natal psychosis, killed her baby, was put in jail for 8yrs for this, then when released on the streets she was homeless, was thought to be stealing, got beaten up, then picked up by the police who took her to the MC sisters.
Another woman with LD had been raped and had a child but was unable to look after her. The girl is now 15 and being brought up by other sisters and communicates with her mother from time to time, she tells the sisters that when she is old enough to hold down a job she will buy a place and take her mother to live with her. What always strikes me about the sisters, is that although their ethical beliefs are prolife, they would never judge or inflict their opinion or their religion on their patients. They would tell me the story of every resident as it was without judgement – not once would they pass a comment like - she was a bad or mad person.
We collcted about 5000e in donations from Malta. So with the monet we bought them about 1 month supply medications and diapers. We changed the whole water system and filters and recreated a roof garden with chairs and plantars for the residents there.
I don’t think I will ever say farewell to nepal, but more of a ‘until we meet again’. I would like to take the family up one day to volunteer with the Sisters of Mother Teresa and then do a small trek together. They are probably of the age when they understand what is going on and it would be a good age to get their hands dirty and come face to face and touch real life. So far, they have had a very comfortable life and I do believe that it is an important part of their upbringing to actually meet the people who come from very different backgrounds to them and have access to much less than they do.
Until the time comes to climb Ama Dablam 6,800m….
‘Without dreams our journeys in life would never begin , and it’s our journeys which take us closer to our dreams’
